the afternoon, without saying anything to anyone, I went in the fields behind the house and I was there to fill the eyes of heaven.
I did not feel alone, with clear words to the trees the wind told my little story.
I listened to him until it came time to leave.
Then I came home with a new promise to keep hidden deep inside the heart.
There are things that do not tell me never.
Without the words to shape it maybe me these things I have lost, or I no longer recognize them.
Where has happened to where I put, I do not know.
And then sometimes, here they are, just when no longer needed.
gaze of others is water in which to learn to look at the bottom, without seeing ourselves reflected.
People talk all the time and I find myself hungry for silence.
Of one thing I fear: too much or too little to protect the promise hidden in the heart.
Sometimes I want some 'silence to hear that there is still, breathing like the wind that I gave it to you and through you and still tell me the result of my little story.
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